


Risk Is More Than Just a Board Game

by Sunshineditty



Series: Breath and Shadow [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied Underage Sex, Magical Realism, Public Masturbation, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineditty/pseuds/Sunshineditty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thinks the reward is worth the risk. Question is, what's the reward? (Or, how Stiles finds himself helping Derek and the rest of the Hale pack find their missing members).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To fully understand this chapter, you needed to have seen 3x02 "Chaos Rising" - I sort of manipulated the timeline so Derek and Stiles had their conversation proceeding Stiles' and Scott's class with Finstock and the conversation the boys have walking down the hallway. Also, since Stiles has a history of spying on his dad's work, I had him aware of Heather's disappearance prior to his dad showing up at school. His reaction to the Sheriff's news struck me as odd, as did his comment later about talking to Derek about biting teens, so I figured Stiles already believed her disappearance wasn't normal and kept quiet because he thought it was supernatural in origin, which meant he couldn't talk to authorities about it.

"What the f-" Stiles whisper-shouted, remembering to lower his voice at the last second because his father had stumbled to bed less than an hour ago and he didn't want to disturb the overworked man.

He'd gone downstairs to grab a drink and came back into his room to find Derek lounging on his bed like he owned it. The soda unfortunately didn't survive Stiles' surprised flailing and spilled all over his shirt. He glared at the smirking Alpha before grabbing a towel from the top of his dirty laundry pile. If it were anyone else, Stiles would just strip off the wet shirt and change, but he refused to be vulnerable around the wolf anymore than he already was.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you we had to talk later. This is later."

"Uh, when did we agree to that?"

Derek stared. "Did you really think we wouldn't talk about it?"

Stiles slipped into his computer chair and swiveled around to face the Alpha. He wanted to tell him to get off his bed, but Stiles knew this was a territory thing and refused to play into Derek's agenda. Regardless of how human Stiles was, Derek's wolf seemed to enjoy playing wolfish games with him, or at least Stiles thought so since he started learning more lore under Deaton's tutelage and looked at Derek's actions under new light. Of course wolfish games weren't as light-hearted as it sounded and there were serious consequences for any missteps he made. While the two Beacon Hills packs weren't actively hostile after the events of four months ago, there was also a strong sense of distrust between Scott and Derek, though this time it was Derek feeling it after Scott set him up. Stiles was angry with Scott - and if he was truthful with himself still a little angry - but was too loyal to apologize to Derek even if he thought Scott played dirty pool.

"So, you wanna tell me more about this pack of Alphas? Or the fact you lied to Scott about not knowing what the marks on Allison's and Lydia's wrists meant?"

The arch questions wiped the smirk off Derek's face, and Stiles enjoyed the awkward silence more than he probably should.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." 

"I didn't lie."

"Semantics, Derek! I could tell you knew _something_ about it."

Derek's "Look, I don't want the girls involved any more than they already are," held a ring of truth and Stiles nodded reluctantly. He thought the Alpha was dumb to think just because he hadn't shared his info the girls would let it go -  _hello_ these  _were_  the same girls who resurrected his dead uncle and shot thirty arrows into him and his pack as Derek so succinctly pointed out - but he was willing to let sleeping dogs lie for now. After all, a little maiming was always fun to watch from a safe distance, and Derek would hopefully learn a valuable lesson about ignoring the female half of Team Human.

"Stiles, I didn't call upon you guy just because I don't think you can handle it, which honestly I don't think you can, but also because I don't want to get any more wolves involved."

Stiles thought about pointing out he really wasn't a wolf, but figured it wasn't the point Derek was trying to make. Despite being a shitty Alpha, and he really kind of was, Derek was also being completely earnest. And honest to a point. There was obviously more at play here and Stiles had the bad feeling he would be pulled into this whether the older man wanted him to or not.

"Yeah, okay, whatever," the teen equivocated when the silence stretched further than felt comfortable. Derek's stubbled jaw worked back and forth as if he were chewing on something - words, ideas, remains of a bunny rabbit? - then he settled further into Stiles' comfy pillow top, his grey henly and jean-clad body looking odd against the brand new red comforter.

"Did you talk to Dr. Deaton after you and Scott left the house?"

"Yes....no...."

"So, no."

"No."

"Why not?"

Stiles shrugged, his shirt sliding wetly against his chest. He scrunched down further into the chair picking at a loose thread in his comfy pajama pants.

"I didn't think it was important."

"Riiight, so you suddenly flinging sparkly fairy dust is a good thing."

"Why isn't it?" And he was serious. What was so wrong with Stiles having a little power? He wasn't able to keep up physically with the wolves, and his planning skills weren't called into use often, so why not channel magic if he could? He needed to contribute something, otherwise he wouldn't be any better than Greenburg standing on the sidelines with a thumb up his ass.

"This is Beacon Hills. When is something new a _good_ thing?"

"Touche." Stiles frowned down at his innocuous looking hands and wished he had a rebuttal, but it was the truth. Dr. Deaton had said he was a Spark and he could turn action into truth through the strength of his will, but nothing was said about glowing skin marks. "And why are you all gung-ho about me talking to our friendly spooky vet? You seemed really pissed at him the last time you saw him."

There was dead silence again then,"You're not me and he can help you." Another beat of quiet. "And uh, well..." Derek sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, which immediately brought Stiles' attention back to the older man's face. He looked unsettled, his brows furrowed in contemplation as he sought the right words. "Look, I don't want you or Scott being dragged into this, but I need Scott's help. With Isaac."

"And you want me to talk him into helping you. Call him yourself."

"I don't have his number."

"It hasn't changed, dude."

"You call him."

"No, you. You're the one who wants him to do something."

Stiles wasn't bitter about playing secretary, not even a little. It wasn't like he wanted to help Derek out with his problems, though frankly it would be better for everyone if both he and Scott were in the loop from the beginning instead of being roped into it after it blew up in the Alpha's face...which it would because the guy had poor planning and execution skills (see: biting outcast teenagers).

"Look Stiles, I need to find Erica and Boyd, and only Isaac knows where they are. Peter already tried to finesse his memories, but it was too jumbled. I don't know what else to do."

It was a genuine plea for help, and not for himself but for his packmates. Maybe Derek was getting better at this whole leader thing - even if it took him four months to figure out he was in over his head.

_Wait. Peter?_

"Wait, Peter? What exactly did he do?"

"Unimportant now since it didn't work. You will convince Scott to help." Derek slid off the bed and loomed over Stiles, as if the sheer bulk of his presence would overwhelm him. Apparently he was over the whole "I'm the Alpha," schtick and going back to the tried and true intimidation track. He didn't move and stared right back into red eyes. A lot had happened since the last time Derek tried this, and while there was still a swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach, he was made of sterner stuff.

"Fine." _Way to stay strong Stiles_. "On one condition." On the other hand, it was safer to be standing by Derek's side when things went sideways. And they always went sideways with werewolves involved.

The same self-satisfied smirk from earlier reappeared on Derek's lips, revealing his cute bunny front teeth. 

"You can come too."

"Gee thanks, but no that's not the condition." Stiles drew in a deep breath.  "My oldest friend in Beacon Hills went missing from her party the other night; at first I thought she just took off because the last time I saw her she was pretty trashed, but a missing person's report was filed by her family so its definitely not something innocent. I want you to go back to the scene of the crime and find out if you can smell anything, I dunno,  _hinky_." 

"I'm not a bloodhound, Stiles."

"I'm not saying you are, just you have the skills of one. It's my condition to getting Scott to help you without going through the whole "I just wanna be a _real_ boy" routine."

His help with the younger wolf was really needed, and they both knew it. Scott was dealing with his "condition" better now, especially with his mom in on the secret, but it wouldn't take much to throw him back to the petulant emo teen of last year.

"Fine, but I go alone."

"Is it possible the Alphas took her?"

Derek shrugged, his Henley pulling tight across his shoulders. "It  _is_ easier to turn teens than any other age because their bodies haven't finished forming."

"As shown by Exhibit A Erica, Exhibit B Boyd, and Exhibit C Isaac, Your Honor."

"But I doubt they took her, Stiles. That's not what they want."

"What exactly  _do_ they want then, Derek? Seems to me the last time we had an Alpha running around wild, he started biting indiscriminately."

"Ha. Ha. I can't tell you why they're here."

"Can't or  _won't?"_

"Guess you can kill two birds with one stone: we'll see you at Dr. Deaton's so we find out where Erica and Boyd are being held and then you can tell him what happened the other night."

"Way to  _subtly_ change the subject."

"Talk to Scott, I'm sure you know how to make it seem like  _his_ idea."

"Joy."

"Always is working with you," Derek snarked before blurring across the room and out the window in the time it took Stiles to stand.

"Showoff."

The howl drifting back sounded suspiciously like wolfish laughter, but Stiles ignored it in favor of slamming his window shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Derek, and Scott walk into a vet's office...either the set up to the weirdest porno ever or the beginning of yet another supernatural adventure designed to drive Stiles to the brink of his control and then beyond. Hopefully, it's the porno set up. Less likely for blood and mayhem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT *** This chapter has dialogue lifted directly from the episode intermixed with Stiles' inner ruminations.

Isaac was beautiful in half-death, his pale skin tinged slightly blue and almost luminous against the ice and water. Stiles felt the thickness of his bones beneath his hands and was suddenly aware of both the strength and delicacy inherent in the wolf; he was at their mercy now, lingering in the state Dr. Deaton swore was necessary for the memory retrograde exercise, yet he was still a creature with preternatural senses who could just as easily claw their faces off. When he'd arched up out of the water, eyes of beta and mouth of fangs, Stiles had felt an intense pulse of attraction for the curly-headed orphan, a feeling he'd never experienced before. He was grateful for the metal tub hiding his lower body from view because it would've been incredibly humiliating to explain the large bulge pressing against the baggy crotch of his jeans. While Stiles often ruminated about the attractiveness of both girls and boys, this felt oddly wrong. Almost as if his body was betraying him in a moment not of his choosing; true he was sixteen and could get wood at the first brush of the wind, but he didn't think that explained it.

"Now remember only I talk to him, too many voices will confuse him and draw him out."

Stiles stared at Deaton in growing consternation. He didn't know what he had expected when he allowed Scott to "talk" him into visiting the vet, but this wasn't it. It was important to find Erica and Boyd, but Isaac was important too and the pup needed protection just as much as his missing packmates.

"Isaac. Can you hear me?"

"Yes...I can hear you."

Stiles ran his hands up and down the teen's calves, disregarding the icy touch of the water lapping at his skin. He knew Isaac needed touch to ground him in the here and now, though Isaac appeared completely out of it. Stiles knew better, could feel a thrumming consciousness seething beneath the human facade, and realized with a touch of wonder he was sensing the wolf.

"This is Dr. Deaton, I would like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to ask you about the night you found Erica and Boyd."

Stiles' eyes flickered towards the vet then up towards the small window near the top of the wall where moonlight glistened against the wet pane and lightning cracked across the sky. A crawling sensation started in Stiles' fingers and spread upwards, a fiery rush crawling through his veins towards his shoulders before plunging down towards his chest and stomach. He tried not to squirm obviously at the alien feeling, determined not to lose contact with Isaac. Something, a sense he didn't fully understand, warned him not to lose contact with the wolf at all. Since he wasn't exactly listening to a sentient being, so much as instinct, he didn't know if there was an _or else_ attached to it, but figured there usually was. The fiery feeling eased once it reached his groin and Stiles nearly groaned in relief, completely missing whatever Derek and Scott were saying. In fact, Scott shouldn't be here, shouldn't be near the defenseless wolf; why was Derek allowing a strange Alpha near an injured packmate? Stiles stiffened with apprehension - what if Scott somehow managed to overpower Derek and stole Isaac away? Dizzying panic began spreading through Stiles at the thought and he yearned to thrust himself between the two wolves but it would require him to let go of Isaac which was the only thing keeping him in his place. 

Apparently he moved once too often because Deaton flicked an annoyed grimace at him though his voice never altered from its soothing cadence. 

"I want you to remember it for me in as vivid detail as possible, like you're actually there again."

"No, I don't want to do that...I don't want to do that. I don't want to do that."

Isaac shifted beneath the hands holding him down though he was clearly struggling against remembering and not them. Stiles made a soothing sound in the back of his throat even as he glared at Derek for letting this continue. It was important for them to find the others, but at the expense of this one? Of this healthy breathing wolf who could be felt and touched while the others were distant and receding memories? It galled him what a waste this was - more wolves could be made if Derek really needed to fill his pack again, though hopefully this time with an eye towards breeding instead of war. War just took and took and took, leaving destruction in its wake, an uneven balance to Life since Death was eternal while Life was fleeting.

"Just relax, they're just memories, You can't be hurt by a memory."

Stiles wanted to beg to differ since it was clear memories  _could_ hurt and this wolf knew more than most how dangerous remembering could be. The lights flickered in time to Stiles growing ire as he saw how badly this session was going, but he couldn't just leave Isaac in such a state, and tightened his hands until it felt like his palms were fusing with the wolf's skin. Both settled as the contact, and Isaac sunk deeper into the water before continuing answering Dr. Deaton's absurd questions. 

Isaac's voice was thready as he recounted his adventures and the snatches of conversation he overheard, his eyes open as he blindly stared at something only he could see. His body was knotting up in anxiety again the more he talked and Stiles wanted to shove the interfering doctor aside so he could dive into the water and pull Isaac into a comforting hug.

Suddenly his hands were empty as the young beta sat up with a pained gasp, voice strangled with fear as he whispered over and over, "They're here! They're here!"

"It's alright, just tell us where they are."

"They see me! They found me! They're here!"

Stiles wanted to scream with Isaac, his veins burning as the wolf thrashed again and again, too caught in his terror to comprehend reality from memory.  _Alpha, save him! Save him from himself! We'll lose him if he stays caught in witch magic!_

Derek finally brushed Deaton aside with an angry "This isn't working," and demanded immediate submission and obedience to his Will. "Isaac where are they? Tell me where you are. Isaac,  _where are you?"_

The witch doctor tried to interfere again, but the Alpha _commanded_ his beta to speak: "Isaac where are you, what did you see?"

"It's a vault, a bank vault!"

The lights went out in a pop as a black miasma seeped out of Isaac's pores, obvious remenants of the spell binding the wolf's memories. Whomever had placed it on Isaac hadn't had enough time to anchor the magic deeper into his mind otherwise it wouldn't have broken beneath the weight of Derek's Will. A collective pack of Alphas versus the strength of one was no contest, especially coupled with a witch worker. Stiles shuddered to wonder what would've happened had Isaac not escaped their clutches when he did; he was already a white-knuckle clench away from full-blown Damaged Peter Who Would Be Alpha psychosis as it was without this added strain.

"I saw it, I saw the name. It's Beacon Hills First National Bank!"

Seething resentment wended its way through Stiles as Scott helped the now conscious wolf from the tub, water dripping down the long lean lines of his body. Only Derek and Stiles should see the wolf so vulnerable.

Any sense of accomplishment for remembering was destroyed the moment Isaac became aware of the muted feelings of those surrounding him. It was a mark of an abusive child to be so aware of the shifting mood despite his recent traumatic experience. Preening pride pushed the resentment out when Isaac automatically turned to Stiles for clarification; he didn't know why the beta chose him over Derek, but it was a damn sight better than Scott. And don't think Stiles would forget any time soon how Isaac had grabbed at Scott's arm during one of his convulsions. Clearly something had to be done to make sure those two weren't alone together any time soon. 

"What?"

"You don't remember what you said right before you came out of it do you?

"No."

"Ah you said when they captured you that the dragged you into a room with a body."

Isaac might be emotionally retarded at times, but it couldn't be said he wasn't quick on the uptake. Realization and the faint glimmer of his returning memories flashed across his face even as he rejected its truth like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand. And as always it was up to Stiles to smash the comforting illusion in favor of brutal truth. He had done it for Scott and he could do nothing less for Isaac.

"What body?"

"Erica. You said it was Erica."

Though Derek flinched at Stiles' words, it was obviously not unexpected news. And why should it be? An Alpha's power was taken from the pack and he must've felt the loosening of the bonds when she died even if he tried to fool himself into thinking it wasn't anything that permanent.  There was hope, however, as Boyd still lived even as Stiles questioned the whys and wherefores of the whole situation in the confines of his own mind. They'd shown enough pack business to the outsiders without baring the lack of trust between him and Derek, so he resolved to find a quiet moment to speak to the Alpha away from the others. It was irritating how much Derek played close to the vest. If only he had come to him sooner for help they wouldn't be playing catch up and trying to figure out what exactly kept the Alphas busy for the past three moons.

Isaac stirred against his side, the icy clench of almost death fading beneath the acclerated healing of his wereolf biology,and Stiles relished the returned heat. Once this was all over he was going to institute a policy of puppy piles with him in the middle so he could feel his wolves all around him. He smiled brightly at the beta, ignoring the confused look he was given in return.

"Is it weird to you that Scott's the voice of reason here?"

Isaac's conversational nudge woke Stiles from the mini-dream he was having, and he tuned back into the conversation flowing around him just in time to add his two bits about finding the information on the bank vault. Derek should never be in charge of planning anything as his role was being the brute force. Stiles was reaching out to pat Derek's arm in a comforting manner when he realized Deaton's eyes were trained on him; for once the vet's face wasn't arranged in its usual Zen-like placidity, but folded into a considering frown.

"Mr. Stilinski I wanted to ask you something before you leave."

Derek flicked an eyebrow at Stiles in a meaningful manner, clearly indicating this was the moment to tell Deaton about his recent experience with Scott, but Stiles ignored him in favor of telling his best friend to meet him at his house in an hour so they could research the information.  Within moments the room was cleared and Stiles settled back against the metal table he'd perched on with Isaac.

"So, what's up Dr. D?"

"You tell me, Stiles. I've been observing you and you seem a little...off."

"Off?" Stiles lifted his arm and sniffed his armpits. "I guess I do smell a little rank if even you can smell me from there."

Deaton merely stared at him with folded hands across his stomach like a much skinnier Buddha. It was similar to the Sheriff's glare, a patented crook-buster. One silence filled staring session and criminals were  _happy_ to spill the beans on any number of crimes just to make him stop. It didn't work on Stiles, of course, after being exposed to it for most of his life, but this time he had nothing to confess to either his father or his vet. Well, not  _his_ vet since he didn't have any animals.

"Stiles."

"Dr. Deaton."

"You were very protective of Isaac tonight."

Confusion and defensiveness rose in Stiles and his voice came out a little sharper than intended. "He was  _half-dead_  ! I mean, he doesn't have any real folks now, so someone's gotta watch out for him."

"Interesting you didn't think Derek would do it."

"Of  course Derek watches out for him! He just needed some extra help." 

"So you're close to Derek and Isaac then? I mean, I know you and Scott haven't spent as much time together as usual."

"Scott's been really busy -"

"I don't really care about Scott right now, Stiles. I'm more interested in your connection to the Hale Pack."

There was a disturbing undertone to the vet's words that set Stiles' nonexistent hackles to rising. "What do you mean  _my_ connection to the Hale Pack?"

"Why are you answering a question with a question?"

"Why are you?"

Deaton drew in a deep breath and let it out with an irritated grunt. "Look, tonight you exhibited unexpected behavior even for you. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a pack-mate by the way you reacted to Isaac's distress."

 _I am_   _you arrogant fool!_  

But wait.

Stiles really wasn't.

In fact, this was the first time he'd seen Isaac since school let out in May. He knew the beta had spent time with Scott at different times over the summer, but hadn't come near Stiles at all. His summer vaction was completely bereft of any wolves outside of Scott, though now it was clear as to why. And he told Deaton as much.

"Interesting."

"You know, when you say it like that, you might as well stroke your chin in a thoughtful manner. You know, for the full Evil Supervillian effect."

"Mr. Stilinski," Deaton began, obviously at the end of his proverbial rope. "Has anything strange happened to you in the past few days? Something out of the ordinary?"

"You mean, besides being accosted by strange wolves in the street and made to chant beneath the new moon while completely naked?"

"Yes, beside that."

He opened his mouth to confess about the strange tattoo experience, but instead just said, "Nope."

Stiles ran a hand through his newly grown hair, still weirded out by the sensation. His usual tradition of shaving his head a week before school started hadn't happened when Scott failed to show up. He could've used the clippers himself, but he'd been too angry to do it without causing possible harm.  He'd forgiven Scott later when his friend called to apologize because it was incredibly hard  _not_ to and had decided this year if Scott could be different than so could he.

"Given the events that have transpired, I think we should put your lessons on hold for now."

"I thought you said it was incredibly dangerous for a Spark to go without training?" Indignation and a cold sense of abandonment canceled out any lingering feelings of guilt for not being completely honest. "Are you saying you're ditching me?"

Deaton shook his head and stood up as he started clearing up the detrius of the night's events. "You're a good student, Stiles -"

"Wait," Stiles said incredously, interrupting him. "Are you breaking up with me? Are you about to give me the whole  _it's not you, it's me_ speech?"

"If you let me finish-" the vet waited, then continued. "- you have a strong will and a definite aptitude for this, but I think it's better if you stay away from magic for the time being. Just until the we discover the reason the Alphas are in town."

Stiles fidgeted with a piece of string lying on the table beside him as he contemplated Deaton's words. It made sense to stay under the radar to hide from a pack of killers except something deep inside balked at walking away when those he cared about needed him the most.  There was an imbalance in Beacon Hills, as if the murder of the Hale Pack years ago had stirred a great evil just now manifesting itself. Peter's death and resurrection, Jackson's death, resurrection, and transformation were symptoms of a larger problem, a pattern that was slowly coalescing in Stiles' hyperaware mind. He now realized his summer was the lull in the storm and the distant thunder was heralding that the full strength was on the horizon. 

"Do you think Isaac's amnesia was natural, a result of his trauma? Or do you think the Alphas used magic on _him?"_

Deaton had superior control over his facial features, but with his back to Stiles, he didn't think to hide the subtle tensing of his shoulders. A year ago Stiles would've missed the small clue, and even this past month he might've dismissed it, but having seen the black cloud rising from Isaac's body cured him of willful blindness. Whatever was going on here, Deaton had some knowledge of it and wanted to keep Stiles from harm.  _Or in the dark_ , a sly voice pointed out. Either way, Stiles needed to be silent and keen, while giving Deaton a false sense of security. He hadn't spent his lifetime trailing after his father without picking up a few tricks of his trade.

"I guess it doesn't really matter since Isaac was able to remember. Do you think we'll be able to extract Boyd?"

It struck him as strange how he was discussing death and destruction with an adult who should've done everything in his power to resolve the situation with someone else in authority instead of entrusting a mission of literal life and death to a young twenty-something and a bunch of teenagers. How was this his life now?

"I think Derek and Scott will come up with a plan, though I do hope you'll follow my advice and  _stay away from the bank vault_."

The string lost its allure and he tossed it into the trash as he stepped up to Deaton's side. Innocent until proven guilty was the motto of the American justice system, but in the brutal shades of grey he now resided, it was an infantile and silly concept because  _proven_   _guilty_ had a different priority when your suspect could sprout claws and fangs or trap you with an incantation (and never again would he use the phrase "say the magic word").

"Yeah, I'm not really the gung-ho guns blazing balls to the wall type. I'll leave that to those who can bounce without breaking. I'm more the type who plots and plans and weaves plans. Kinda like a spider, though I'm much cooler than Peter Parker. He was just a stupid guy in weird looking pyjamas."

Deaton huffed a laugh, as his intent, and the tension eased from his posture. "I thought you were Robin to Scott's Batman?"

Stiles scowled. "He never let me be Batman so I was forced to be Robin."

"And now?"

A razor sharp grin full of teeth. "I like the shadows better."

"Maybe you do, Mr. Stilinski. Maybe you do."

"Ooh look at the time, I should go if I'm gonna find that info for Derek."

"Just remember what I said."

"I will, thanks."

Deaton's name was definitely going on the list of suspects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truncated some of the dialogue for brevity's sake as it wasn't exactly my intention to use all of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles together with no else around. Yeah, that's a great idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, like the previous two chapters you must have seen "Chaos Rising" to get a lot of what is discussed here. I could write it in a way to make it incidental, but I find I enjoy picking up the subtleties of the episode and interpreting it my way. And once again I lifted dialogue though I did cut some of it (really Stiles, a "wolf den?" I had to agree with Peter on that one). Oh and this chapter makes the rating go way up, just FYI.

"This is bad idea, Derek."

"Stiles, for the last time, I know what I'm doing!"

Stiles faced down the Alpha, his palm still stinging with the force of his punch. He didn't doubt Derek was serious in his belief about his superiority, but Stiles had seen too much in the past year or so to believe so blindly. Derek had almost died too many times for Stiles to willingly let him go. 

"It's okay, I'll be with him."

Scott. Of course Scott could go with him because  _he_ was useful, at least according to Derek. And Stiles wasn't bitter about  being left behind. _Again_.

"Yeah, that makes me feel better."

Scott clapped him on the shoulder and left the room, apparently never picking up on his sarcasm. Derek did though and didn't follow the other wolf right away.

"What's this about?"

Stiles wished he could explain the dread swimming in his stomach and the sense Derek  _needed_ him there. HIs fingers itched and he unconsciously brought them up to Derek's chest, something that had the wolf widening his eyes in shock. They just didn't  _do that_ , touch for no apparent reason. Touch was only permissible in cases of danger or near-death,  _not_ like this.

Why not? Stiles touched Scott all the time with no reprecussions. Why couldn't he touch Derek?

Taking advantage of Derek's shock, Stiles lightly caressed the hard pecs beneath his hands and  _pushed_. The Alpha didn't move of course, and Stiles dropped his touch to the hem of his green t-shirt and placed his palms directly to his belly.  _Better_ , a small voice sighed _, easier to do it this way_.  The rush of heat didn't surprise Stiles anymore, and he remembered one of the sigils he'd traced over and over, imagining it against Derek's bare flesh laced with protection and gold. He wasn't sure exactly why he was doing it, but he knew he  _had_ to if he wanted the wolf to come back in one piece.

"What. The. Fuck?"

Stiles drew away with a shaky breath, staring at his hands to avoid looking the Alpha in the eye. "Be careful, Derek, I'm serious."

"I will."

"You better come back."

 A sigh. "I promised you nothing would happen to Scott, didn't I? I swear I won't let him get hurt."

Stiles looked up into slightly red-tinted eyes. That wasn't what he meant  _at all._ In fact, he hadn't even thought to worry about his best friend or give him a protection ward. 

"That's not what I meant -"

"Look, I gotta go. Just stay here and we'll be here soon."

Derek stalked out of the room without looking back, Stiles staring after him in confusion. 

"So, how long you and Derek been fucking?"

Stiles turned away from the door and gaped at Peter.

"Huh? Wha-?"

The older wolf opened his eyes and smirked. "I must admit, Derek doesn't usually have good taste when it comes to his bed companions, but _you_ , you are very tasty." He raised a clawed finger to his own lips and traced it lightly. "Your mouth alone must be heavenly."

A blush worked its way down Stiles' cheeks towards his chest at the innuendo. There was nothing going on between him and Derek, but he couldn't deny he sometimes had to hide an erection whenever the older man came near him. What? Sue him for being attracted to beauty.  _  
_

"Uh, ew, and no. We're not like that."

"But you want to be," Peter purred, dropping his hand to his chest where he rubbed his nipple through his thin cotton shirt. There was enough light in the room for Stiles to see Peter's pants were tented at the crotch and he blanched at the sight, though a small treacherous part of him enjoyed causing the reaction. The wolf spread his thighs wider from his position on the couch to make room for his heavy erection.

"You think I can't smell your attraction? Hell, you smell almost like you're in heat."

Stiles twitched by the window, a strange warmth crawling through him when he noticed burning blue eyes staring at him. Wolves' eyes only changed colors with heightened emotions, and it was obvious which one was currently motivating Peter. The wolf wasn't helping any with the obscene lip-licking and the hand venturing lower and lower until it reached his zipper.

"You want this, don't you?"

"No-no-no," he stuttered in reply, his heart beat loud in his ears. He couldn't tell if he was lying or not. The same feeling that nearly overwhelmed him at the clinic was wending through him now; except Peter wasn't the same as Isaac. He was infinitely more dangerous. 

"I bet if I pulled out my cock now, you'd go to your knees for me. Wouldn't you, pup?"

Until this moment, Stiles was positive the only emotions he felt toward Peter were hatred and fear, but the lust pooling through his veins belied that thought. The erection he'd felt earlier when Derek brushed against him returned now with startlingly force, his precome blurting out the tip and dampening his boxers in an obvious and embarrassing way.

The sound of metal teeth parting was loud in the silence and it became clear Peter wasn't a boxer or a brief man.

"God, the look on your face. You're still a virgin, aren't you?"

Peter rubbed himself through the parting in his jeans as his gaze never wavered from Stiles. Stiles, for his part, refused to glance down and give Peter the satisfaction of looking, but found he was chewing on his lips while clamping his hands on the sill behind him. 

"Hmm, I think I like you better over there, helpless against your own lust and inhibited by shyness. I bet you'd spread so prettily for me, wouldn't you? Face down, ass in the air, presenting like a bitch in heat. You needing dick so badly, you'd wag and beg and hump the air for it." Slick sounds began in earnest as Peter's fist started pumping faster. "Tucked into your little bed at home you probably start touching yourself with a pretty girl in mind, like that redhead I almost had. But when you're straining to come, it's not a female who gets you off, is it? It's being held down and fucked hard by someone stronger, rougher, and bigger, isn't it?"

Stiles was dying over there, his body flushed with a caustic mixture of shame and desire because it was true what Peter was saying. So often he would start fantasizing about being with Lydia, her small soft hands touching him while he kissed her sweetly. It was nice and would work when he was feeling languid and lazy, but the times when he needed to get off fast, it was male hands hold his head down while a large dick fucked his mouth, choking him as come poured down his throat. He never saw a face, but Stiles knew, he  _knew_ who it was using him like a fucktoy, and he always came with the name bitten off at the last. He could pretend he didn't have a weird twisted crush on the guy if he didn't say the name. 

"Or maybe you want to be used by all of us, is that it? I bet Isaac would rim you so gently, licking and lapping to get you loose and ready for the Alpha. He's a beta, but fuck if he doesn't act like an Omega, needy and pliant to the least order. I've wanted to plow that ass myself, but know I can't until the Alpha does." Peter slowed his masturbating at Stiles' inhalation. "Oh, you didn't know that? An Alpha gets first pick of viable mates in the pack; doesn't matter if they're male or female. I bet Erica thought she was going to get tapped, but Derek doesn't really swing that way, Kate nonwithstanding."

"Wha-?"

"Another little secret your lover kept from you, eh? Erica wanted Derek  _badddd_ and not in a "oh my knight in shining armor" way but more of a "daddy spank me harder 'cause I've been a bad girl" kind of thing. She was  _kinky_ and was so screwed in the head that she would take it anyway she could get it." Peter winked. "Trust me."

A week ago and the thought of Erica fucking Peter would've grossed Stiles out and made him wonder if she needed mental help, but now, here in this moment, it merely served as lighter fluid on the conflagration of his lust. His jeans got even tighter and Stiles yearned to unzip and finish himself off, maybe spray all over Peter so the wolf was marked with his seed.

"If you want to lose your pesky virginity, Stiles, stick to dirty girls like Erica and leave prissy ones like Lydia to the Jacksons of the world. Lydias look like firecrackers and lots of fun, but really they're looking for control over you. Ericas will get down in the dirt and let you be an  _animal!_ "

Stiles incredulously listened to Peter talk and wondered how his life had spiraled to this: being given sex advice by a man nearly as old as his father while he masturbated. And actually be turned on by it. 

"Hmm, I hope they do find her alive. I haven't had any pussy since she left."

And just like that, Stiles' erection wilted as he was reminded of why he was here. Erica and Boyd were gone, taken by interlopers, and Derek was out there in the dark with Scott as his backup. It galled Stiles to be left behind when the two wolves were going up against a whole  _pack_ of Alphas.

"I've lost you, haven't I? That's rude, my boy, to leave me hanging like that."

"Oh shut up, Peter. I'm not your boy and you can get off without me."

"But I'd rather get off _with_ you." The words rolled across the narrow space between them, the silky promise rubbing against Stiles' skin like a cat looking to be scratched. He darted a look at the sofa again and saw Peter's head thrown back against the cushions, his dick fully exposed as his hand blurred up and down its length. Curiousity and prurient interest kept his eyes glued to the sight and he nearly sighed with the older man when white finally spurted from the tip and dripped down.

"Want a taste? I won't tell Derek if you won't," Peter lured, his come-covered hand held out to Stiles. Stiles nearly took a step forward before common sense yanked back the controls and he stopped.

"Pity. I wanted my semen to be the first you tasted, but I guess I'll have to wait my turn." 

A quick tug and tuck and Peter was decently dressed again as if the past few minutes had never happened. He even produced a hankerchief from his pocket to wipe himself clean. 

Stiles refused to comment and whipped around to stare out the window towards the cold looking moon.  Peter refrained from speaking and silence descended upon the apartment again. Without the wolf's interference, Stiles couldn't help but think of all the things that could go wrong for his friends, and dread once again pooled in his stomach.

After interminable minutes later, Stiles finally cracked and croaked, "I can't take waiting around like this, it's nerve-wracking. My nerves are wracked. They're severely wracked."

"I could beat you unconscious and wake you when its over." There was a certain glee threading his tone and Stiles didn't doubt the waking part of it would involve more than a simple slap to the cheeks.

"Do you think Erica is really dead?"

"Do you think I really care?"

 _Yes! You're supposed to care, even a little, about a girl you took to your bed! Or, hell, what about the fact she's_ Pack.

Yet none of those words passed Stiles' lips because he knew pack bonds didn't extend to Peter, at least not in a normal way. His death and resurrection was a thing of magic, but a darker kind and couldn't integrate the simpler cleaner magic inherent in bonds. Hell, he probably sheared it away himself the minute he killed Laura; sure there was precedence of Alphas being taken down by their own pack for the power, but her death wasn't due strictly to a dominance war and therefore it was  _different_. Stiles didn't know or understand how he knew this other than it was knowledge pulsing quietly in his mind.

Instead he glossed over Peter's question and responded with, "I just don't understand the bank though. Why wouldn't they chain them up in some underground lair, or something? They're an Alpha pack, shouldn't they have a lair?"

Indignation and a sense of fair play was working through Stiles as he ground his teeth in frustration. Of course he knew villains never worked like they did in stories, having a convenient lair situated so the hero(es) could stumble across, but it was frustrating being the one stuck here with no knowledge of what was going on or why. Especially not know the  _whys_ and  _whatfores._ He could (almost) handle sending Derek off to a deadly situation except the lack of knowledge about  _anything_ made the prospect so much scarier. Knowledge was half the battle, or so he learned early.

"They're werewolves, not Bond villains."

"Okay fine, that just proves there's something up with the bank. And why wait around for the full moon? Huh? Why not just kill them whenever they want to?"

"Maybe they think its poetic." Peter's words were slower now, almost sluggish like he was about to fall asleep. Stiles stilled his restless pacing to glare at the nearly comatose werewolf. Geebus, one little orgasm and he's ready to nap. Guess it really  _was_ a myth about werewolf stamina - or Allison being really really kind to Scott.

"They've already had three full moons to be poetic," Stiles sneered.

"And here you've only had one full hour to be so annoying -" Peter stopped, his head snapping upright as an idea occurred to him. The teen was miffed at his words and missed the alertness raging through the wolf's body. 

"No, go ahead, finish what you were saying. I'm annoying -"

Peter ignored him now, intent on the idea welling up. "What are the walls made of?"

"What? I dunno, wood and brick."

"No the vault, the walls what are they made of?" Peter had vaulted from the couch and gone to the table covered with blueprints, hastily thumbing through them in his search for the answer.

Stiles caught his exitement and pawed through the briefcase holding the rest of the information he'd gathered earlier. "Here, it's gotta be in there." Forgotten was everything that had gone before; in its place was the familiar tingling sensation Stiles always felt when pieces of a puzzle were coming into focus. Had he looked in a mirror in that exact moment, he might've recognized his father staring back at him from the glass.

Peter grasped it, his eyes speeding over the paper, fingers greedily discarding the unimportant pages as he sought the confirmation of his suspicions. "I'm right, I know I'm right."

Stiles, reading just as rapidly, spots the information before he does. "There, that's it!" Of course, Stiles has no clue what exactly it means to Peter, but feels triumphant anyway.

Peter mumbled words beneath his breath, each syllable sounding darker and darker until Stiles can't stand it any more. "That sounds awful! What does it mean?"

"Get them on the phone," the wolf ordered, for once innuendo missing from his words. "Boyd and that girl are going to kill each other. They're going to kill Derek and Scott."

Stiles froze at Peter's dire proclamation, the voice in his head starting to gibber again with  _no, not our Alpha. Not the Alpha!_ His fingers trembled as he tried to tap out Scott's phone number, finally remembering his best friend was #2 on his speed dial.

"Stiles now isn't the best time!"

And despite the severity of the situation, Stiles rolled his eyes as he fought the urge to laugh in disbelief This wasn't the first time Scott had tried to hang up on him during a tense moment, when it was  _imperative he listened to Stiles._  There was a reason he wasn't truly a part of the Hale Pack, and stupidity was the least of his problems. 

"Scott! Scott! Listen to me, you gotta get out of there!" Stiles held the phone away from him, pressing the speaker button so Peter could speak if necessary. "The walls of the vault are made with of a mineral called Hecatolite; it scatters the moonlight."

"What does that mean?"

Panic filled Stiles as he heard Derek's voice rumbling in the background, accompanied by deep growls. Obviously his bone-headed Alpha was trying to talk down a moon-ridden wolf. "It keeps the moonlight out okay. They haven't the full moonlight in months!" 

Peter chimes in when the horror overwhelms Stiles and stills his tongue. "Think of it like the gladiators of the Roman Coliseum. They used to starve the lions for three days to make them more viscious, more out of control. Deucalion kept them from shifting for three full  _moons,_ diminishing their tolerance to it."

Stiles drew a deep breath then picked up the thread, "Scott they're going to be stronger." 

Peter exclaimed in tandem, "More savage, more bloodthirsty. Scott, they're the lions. The starved lions and you and Derek just stepped into the Coliseum."

Both of them hear Scott speaking then, though obviously not to them. "Derek we have a big problem -"

Silence only broken up by growls, then Derek's voice waveringly speaking one word: "Cora? Cora?"

Peter gripped Stiles' arm abruptly, shock whitening his face as his claws dug into Stiles' skin. Stiles winced with pain and tried to draw away but stopped when the tips merely slid in deeper.

A female voice, the strange girl-wolf from Isaac's memories, floated from the tinny speakers of Stiles' phone. "Derek, get out. Get out now!"

Oh god, she's warning him away. It should be a good thing she retained enough of her senses to warn him off, except Stiles had a really bad feeling Derek wouldn't back off. Not if he knew her. 

"Scott! Scott!"

There was no response then his best friend screamed, "No! No wait!" And then the growls were louder as if the wolves had come closer where Derek and Scott stood.

Peter and Stiles stared at the phone in his hand when the sound was cut off completely.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God."

"There is no God here, " Peter whispered, his claws finally releasing Stiles. "There is only death and destruction and lies."

"Who was that girl -" Stiles started to ask before a pulsing bolt of pain went through his body, his hands, arms, chest, and stomach. He screamed in fear and shock, the pain coming over him in waves until he fell unthinkingly to his knees, then all fours, body writhing with agony as red fire traced its blazing path across his skin, blood spurting from slashes that mysteriously appeared. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...yeah, that happened. I swear my Muse is a dirty-minded one because she took one look at Peter's sprawl on the couch and concluded it looked like he was thoroughly debauched. And since Stiles was hyper and jittery, not sex-slowed, it was obvious Peter had just finished on his own. But why? And thus this part was born.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought Stiles' p.o.v. of Scott's tattoo was a one-shot, but when I watched Ep 2, I saw how my story could be continued in the shadows. I can't promise I'll write a response to every episode, but I'm game to try!


End file.
